


Renaissance Curl Routines and Sudden Panic Attacks, a sonnet by Eddie Kaspbrak

by byerswill



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, I'm really not sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mild Language, Richie calls Eddie bug, They're juniors, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's hardly there but still there, richie has BEAUTIFUL curls, this is projection in all ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byerswill/pseuds/byerswill
Summary: Eddie is tired and wants to finish his dumb history project. Richie calls him and does his hair, and Eddie realizes (albeit, a tad manically) that he is very much in love with his boyfriend and his little quirks.





	Renaissance Curl Routines and Sudden Panic Attacks, a sonnet by Eddie Kaspbrak

**Author's Note:**

> this is projection. i used my curl routine, which is basic bc my curls aren't crazy, but i REFUSE to believe that richie tozier just wakes up like the chaotic homo that he is with perfect curls. this kind of went in a different direction than i was originally intending, but i liked how it turned out so here ya go!

It was late.

It was late, and Eddie was _exhausted_.

Honestly, exhausted wasn’t even the right word to describe the sheer and utter drain his body was experiencing. On top of the little sleep he received the night before, mixed with the stress of a full day of high school, Eddie was forced awake by a history project about the World Wars that Eddie had absolutely no interest in finishing. His temples throbbed, relentless like a drummer playing a pulsating beat. His tiny hands ached, craving for a break from the _click click click_ of his keyboard keys. His lungs felt impacted, the stress and weariness he encompassed handicapping him from simply breezing through his current work at hand.

Eddie’s strained glance flitted from his laptop’s harsh glare, looking up at his dull white ceiling with a heavy sigh escaping past his lips. The ceiling fan whirled softly, creating a draft in the room in an attempt to help Eddie stay focused. His attempts were failing, however, as his exhaustion crept up his body and ached through his bones. He had been working nonstop on this project for hours, breezing through his other homework in a short amount of time. Now, he was left with all the time he needed to work on this project. This stupid, ridiculous project.

Eddie scoffs. _Ridiculous_. Yet another understatement to how he really feels. Sure, Eddie knew he was being slightly overdramatic. He was almost done, after all. Just a couple more fancy words here with all the other bullshit he had already written. He had spent majority of the night typing out the same monotonous information in about twelve different ways, in an attempt to make it all sound different. He had just finished describing the turmoil from World War 1, repeating the same three words: sad, negative, impactful - everything was coming out the _same_. No matter how hard he seemed to try, it all came out recycled. Boring, repetitive, annoying.

The sitting weight in his chest grew, a slight panic overwhelming his senses. _It’s not good enough. You need to find a better word for this, or for that. You need to start over. You’re gonna fail your junior year because you are the epitome of a fuck up and nothing sounds good in this, I bet your teacher will assume you plagiarized all of this, it’s that garbage, Kaspbrak--_

A rough vibration to the right of Eddie’s arm unfocused him from his mental stump, yet his eyes remained fixated on the ceiling. He knew it had to be a text, but he had the energy level of a sleeping sloth, and couldn’t bring himself to check the initial notification. However, his phone kept sporadically buzzing next to him, and Eddie knew he wasn’t popular enough for that to be more than one person. He reluctantly picked up the phone, but praised his action almost instantaneously as he unlocked the device.

_From: Shithead_

_i miss you **(10:22pm)**_

_and i’m bored **(10:22pm)**_

_Facetime me? **(10:23pm)**_

_i’m desperate and a little stoned please answer before something drastic happens **(10:24pm)**_

_bug!!!!!!!! **(10:24pm)**_

A smile grew on his face for the first time since getting home from school, the flurry of pink heart emojis and sparkles next to the contact name instantly garnering all of his attention. He typed out his response, quickly. This is the exact break he needed.

_To: Shithead_

_Call me. **(10:25pm)**_

Before he could even exit the Messages app, he was immediately bombarded with his own reflection looking right at him. The contact name from before was displayed along with the red and green answer buttons, signaling the incoming Facetime call. He ruffled his already finger-mused hair, attempting to contain the mess atop his head. He briefly took into account the red splotches of frustration framing his cheekbones, and huffed.

Eddie sighed heavily before giving up, answering the call, cheek pressed to the knuckles of one hand while the other held his phone upright. Before long, the unmistakable grin of his boyfriend filled up the small screen.

“Eddie! Baby!” Richie squealed, his smile never faltering. Eddie mimicked the contagious expression.

“Hi, Rich,” Eddie greeted softly, placing the phone to rest against the area where his laptop and keyboard met, sitting the device up still, but giving Eddie the freedom to both hands now.

“I missed you!” Richie sang out, glasses slightly askew and fogged up, reflecting the lighting of the room he was in.

“You saw me a few hours ago,”

“I know,” The cheeky grin never leaving Richie’s face. Eddie shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle at his boyfriend’s over dramatic tendencies.

Richie placed his phone down from the close proximity it was before. The room was lit by a bright, fluorescent lighting. His phone was placed against a stark white countertop. The space was covered in numerous items - “messily organized” as Richie called it. Eddie noticed that Richie’s hair was dripping down his forehead and on to his dark blue shirt, altering the color where his shoulders were. No matter what Richie did to hold up his phone, the phone would keep falling face first onto the ceramic counter. It took Richie a couple attempts, a string of curse words fleeing his mouth every time he failed (each time it fell, Eddie would let out a giggle, but he’d deny it wholeheartedly to any other person who might’ve asked).

Finally, with an “Ah hah!”, and a now steadied phone, Eddie begun the conversation. “Did you enjoy your shower?”

“Yeah,” Richie sighed with a disappointed tone, ducking onto the floor before popping back up to the camera view. He clutched a black, inside out shirt in his hands, unfolding it to a flat position before grasping it tightly in one hand. The silk screen of an unrecognizable band logo peeked through.“It would’ve been better with you in there with me, though.”

“Oh, shut up,” Eddie reprimanded, albeit not believable, his pale cheeks betraying him by flashing a hot pink that tingled his skin with a mixture of frustration and interest. He and Richie had done _stuff_ , but nothing that far - yet. However, this didn’t deter Eddie’s vast imagination and curiosity. He almost asked _“And why is that?”_ , just to see what nonsensical ideas Richie would spew, but decided against it. Eddie was definitely not in the mood for _that_ , and knew it would have escalated quickly.

“What? I’m no liar, Eds, it would have been!” He laughed, teasing his boyfriend and basking in the visible fluster. Eddie scoffed, smiling as he watched the slightly pixelated features of his dumb _(cute)_ boyfriend.

Richie’s head fell, allowing his sopping hair to free fall as he clutched the fabric of the cotton tee in his large hands, fingers twisting as he scrunched the water out of the tendrils, now making it comfortably damp. Wide ringlets begun to texturize on the black mass. Now, instead of being flat to his head with a slight curl, it began to volumize right before Eddie’s eyes. He watched, almost entranced by the way it was so easily manipulated by a couple of squeezes of his hand. Eddie hummed, chin resting in his hand as he stared at his boyfriend.

“Something on my face?” Richie said, brow furrowing in curiosity at Eddie’s trance.

“Nope, you’re just super ugly.” Eddie bit back quickly, smirking.

“Wow, and to think that you said you _loved_ me!”

“I’ve been lying this whole time, I hate your guts.”

“Hey, speaking of guts, I’m gonna be deep in your mom’s tonight--”

“You are disgusting!” Eddie screeched, covering his face with his hands and groaning.

A loud, boisterous laugh emerged through his phone speaker. Eddie uncovered his face, watching as Richie picked up a cylindrical container with a bright orange lid on it. His fingers fit around the cap, untwisting it and letting it clatter obnoxiously out of the camera view. He placed the product down, dipping three of his fingers into the mix and spreading it out between his two hands. He repeated his earlier action again, letting his head fall and his curls giving in to the inevitability of gravity. The scrunching from before was mimicked, but now there was remnants of the hair cream making its way into the dark tressels.

Eddie admired the way his fingers deftly worked through his hair in an organized fashion. Richie donned a look of determination. His gaze was intensely following his every move in the reflection of his bathroom mirror, brow furrowed in concentration. Eddie bit his lip, focusing on his boyfriend with the same intrigue that Richie had on his hair.

“You are so beautiful,” Eddie breathed before he could stop himself.

Richie’s gaze flitted to Eddie. His hands paused in his hair, and he softly grinned. The curls were stuck in the middle, between his fingers, curving and waving into complicated textures and patterns. Eddie blushed furiously, embarrassed he let it slip, but not regretful to letting his boyfriend know the truth.

“Thank you,” Richie said shyly. A comfortable silence fell for a moment, before he asked, “what prompted you to say that, bug?”

“I-I don’t know,” Eddie bit his lip, his senses overwhelmed all of a sudden. “I guess it’s just cute when you do your hair routine, that’s all.”

Richie resumed his movements, his curls fully transformed into ringlets the size of a lipstick tube. “My hair routine?” He cheekily quipped.

“Yes, asswipe, your hair routine,” he laughed, still embarrassed yet feeling bold. He felt a pressing, consistent pressure within his chest as he began. “Your cute little curl routine, where you use a dirty band shirt to get the water out, then that styling cream that smells like a buttery coconut - one of my most favorite things ever is to smell it when you’re laying on my chest - and your curls just _transform_ into like, something found in a Renaissance painting. Like, holy shit, you’d think your hair was painted by Michelangelo or Leonardo Da Vinci… or something. It’s so effortless, I guess. Running my hands through it and making curls _against_ your curls, like how the hell is that possible, you know?”

Before Eddie could attempt to take control on the word vomit, he felt tears prickling in his eyes. He was just so _in love_ and emotional and he could not contain his feelings.

“Eds! What the fuck, why are you crying?” Richie coos, a grin so wide it looks like it will snap right off of his dumb _(stupidly cute)_ face.

“I just spewed out a lot of weird shit so fast please don’t make fun of me, it’s just true and I am so exhausted and stressed right now and I just think you’re so cute, I’m in love with you,” he concluded, voice cracking a bit as he laughed through the tears streaming down his face. Eddie placed his tiny hands to his cheeks, wiping his forming eye bags to dry them slightly. Richie gazed at his boyfriend, a soft yet worried expression dawning his features.

“I love you too, bug,” Richie whispered, his joking tone from before completely erased.

“Why did I start crying?” Eddie laughed, yet the humor was absent from his tone.

“I think you’re just tired, Eds,” Richie smiled, alleviating some of the tension in Eddie’s shoulders just slightly.

“I am _so_ tired,” Eddie confirmed, nodding his head. He removed his hands from his face, wiping his eyes haphazardly one last time before he looked to his boyfriend on the screen. “I meant what I said, although I was a little mental when reciting it to you.”

“Trust me, I believe you,” Richie was flicking the light off in his bathroom, his hair slowly drying in its styled state. “What can I do to make you feel better? You had me real worried there, Eddie Spaghetti,”

“I just want this stupid project to burn,” Eddie angrily replied, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, brow furrowed. He was certain he looked like a child throwing a tantrum, which Richie would’ve teased him about if the situation were different.

“How much do you have left?” Richie was already finished with the history project that Eddie was currently plotting the death of. However, he knew it was a tedious and annoying project, and he felt nothing but sympathy for the emotionally drained boy through his phone screen.

“I have to… uh,” Eddie fiddled with his mousepad, bringing his screen to life and counting. “One… two… about four more blurbs comparing World War I with World War II…”

Richie gasped, exclaiming, “Eddie! That’s nothing, bug! You can finish that so quick.”

“It all sounds the same though!” He tugged at his unruly brunette ends, frustrated.

“Eddie, it doesn’t. I promise you,” Richie continued. “You’re saying that because you’ve been staring at a screen for hours on end trying to finish this project, I’m sure _you_ feel that it’s repetitive because you’ve been reading the same Wikipedia pages and the same two chapters in our textbook. You know I’m right.”

He did. Eddie knew that Richie was right, yet he felt so drained he could barely see the rational side of thinking right now. Eddie breathed in deep, exhaling and allowing his shoulders to be visibly less tense.

“Good, that’s good baby, breathe and relax now,” Richie mimicked Eddie, breathing in dramatically, a heaving noise accompanying his theatrics in an attempt to make Eddie laugh. It worked. Eddie let out a short string of giggles, closing his eyes and allowed himself to sync up his breaths with his boyfriend.

Eddie felt the tension in his chest let up, his mind clearing up from the clouded anxiety that sat uncomfortably before. “Thank you,” he opened his eyes, noticing Richie was putting on a hoodie and his beat up black Converse.

“Not a problem, Eddie Spaghetti!” Eddie heard him shuffle off of his bed, out of frame from the phone. He heard the unmistakable sound of keys clinking together, before he was faced again with Richie.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked curiously, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“I’m stopping at Keene’s, getting some disgustingly sugary snacks, bringing an extra hoodie and coming over to your house, right now,” Richie shuffled around his room, opening up his closet sliding door. He was pulling down a forest green hoodie, the one with the University of Maine logo splayed on the front, cracking and fraying with age, but it _was_ Eddie’s favorite.

“Rich… it’s so late,” Eddie sighed, peering at the top right corner of his laptop. 11:15pm, it blared. Eddie could feel guilt creeping up his system, a heavy dumbell weight inside of his stomach.

“Hey,” Richie was now opening his bedroom door, backpack straps against his broad shoulders as he made his way down the moonlit hallway. “One, I was probably coming over regardless, I just needed to smoke a bit and shower, that’s why it wasn’t earlier. And two, how could I not come over after you gave the most beautifully dedicated sonnet about my _hair_? That’s single handedly the cutest thing that I witnessed today, I swear!”

Eddie shook his head, a fond expression painted across his features. The guilt lessened almost entirely, leaving just a warmth that could only be described with that big “L” word. “I love you so much.”

“And I to you, love,” Richie opened his front door, the internet on his phone cutting out just slightly. “Now, I’ll be there in roughly thirty minutes. Keep working, you’re gonna finish regardless if I’m there or not, and then when you’re done we can eat some stress food and just cuddle. Who knows, maybe you can sniff the “buttery coconut” of my “Renaissance painting” curls, or hey! What about if you run your hands through it for a _different_ reason, huh?”

“Beep beep, baby,” Eddie teased with no bite to his words at all. “Just get over here, dork. The window is wide open and waiting for your gangly ass to walk through,”

“I can’t wait, see you soon, Eds!” Richie was sitting in his car, the only light illuminating his features being the dashboard lights and the full moon outside. Eddie waved, hanging up the call. He stretched, letting out a groan as he rest his arms back to his side.

Eddie gazed at his computer screen again. He nodded his head to himself, a new found determination creeping its way through the muddled remnants of his panic before. The tight feeling in his shoulders and chest were nonexistent at this point in time, replaced with the new confidence that Richie had helped to bestow into his mind.

Eddie cracked his fingers, twisting around his sore neck a few times before sighing. He rest his hands to their uniformed spots at his keys, beginning to type away. Of course, it was all still bullshit, but with the motivation of his boyfriend’s body heat and calorie-infused snacks, he remained focused on the work ahead of him. He smiled to himself, the familiar taps filling up the resound silence of his bedroom, the feeling of anticipation brushing away the stressful environment from before.

 

-

 

Eddie lay under the stark white comforter on his bed, giggling against Richie’s chest as he told a story Eddie had definitely heard at least a thousand times before. Yet, Eddie couldn’t find himself caring, feeling the vibration of his boyfriend’s voice against his temple. He was encompassed in the scent of Richie’s woodsy cologne, the strong smell mixing with the warmth of their intermingling body heat. He nibbled on a slightly melted Snickers bar, enjoying the chocolatey taste on his tongue, remnants of Richie’s lips still spattered to his smile.

“And just like that, Bill had me tucked under his arm in a chokehold while Ben and Beverly just screeched at the sight of what I had done to their room! And so--”

He sat up, interrupting his story with his lips to Richie’s. He felt Richie’s grin through the kiss, placing his hand onto Eddie’s cheek and basking in their shared giggles. Eddie ran his fingers through those curls that he loved so much, tugging softly before licking his tongue on Richie’s bottom lip. Richie sighed, and Eddie felt more content than he had all day.

_This, Eddie thought. This is love._


End file.
